


Out

by gluedwithgold



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Coming Out, Gen, Pre-Canon, Pre-Series Dean Winchester, Pre-Series Sam Winchester, Teenchesters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:07:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28386747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gluedwithgold/pseuds/gluedwithgold
Summary: Sam has been struggling, so Dean gets to the bottom of the issue.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 51





	Out

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 2020 SPN-J2 Xmas Exchange.

Dean was watching TV on the beat-up couch in the latest cheap, furnished rental John had stuck them in while he was off hunting. They’d stayed at this one for a little over a month now, John calling in to ask Dean and Sam to research for him, and moving on to another nearby hunt once he took care of whatever it was he was after. It was good for Sam to stay put for a while, and Dean had helped find more hunts nearby to feed to his dad to help keep them there longer. 

“Heya, Sammy!” Dean called out from the couch, not even looking up from the television when Sam burst through the door after school. There was just a brief pause, then the door swung shut and Sam was off down the hallway and into their bedroom, that door not-quite-slamming closed as well. Dean turned around then, staring dumbly down the empty hallway where his little brother had just been. He let out a sigh as he debated whether he should go after him or let him have his teenaged-angst moment in peace. 

This had been happening more and more over the past few months, Sam locking himself away wherever he could, having periods of misery that Dean could never get him to talk about. He was fifteen, and Dean had been that age not that long ago, so he knew it just plain sucked. Dean had gone through it alone, but he didn’t see any reason for Sam to have to, too. So he’d give him a little space, let him calm down a bit, then try to get his brother to talk. He usually just ended up being a presence for Sam, just there, nearby, so Sam knew he wasn’t really alone. 

Twenty minutes later, after the show he’d been watching was over, Dean got up and wandered down the hall. Turning the knob, he found the door locked. Of course. Dean stood there for a few seconds, debating, before deciding it was time he got whatever was troubling his brother out.

“Sam! Open the door!” Dean listened, heard no movement on the other side, so he pounded on the wood a few times. “Come on, Sam!” 

Still nothing. Shaking his head and rolling his eyes, Dean went back to the living room and plucked his lock pick set from his jacket. He was stepping into their bedroom in less than a minute. 

Sam was face-down on his bed, his head buried in his arms. Dean was familiar with that posture - his brother was hurting. And more than the usual foul mood this time.

“C’mon Sam. What’s up?” Dean sat down on the edge of the bed as he spoke, laying a hand to the middle of Sam’s back. It was close to a full minute before Sam spoke, voice muffled in the crook of his arms.

“Don’t wanna talk about it.” 

“Dude, you know I’m not gonna let you sit here by yourself brooding. Spill.” 

Sam huffed a sigh, and Dean knew he was rolling his eyes, even with his head still buried. 

“I got in a fight.” 

“You hurt?” 

“No.” 

“Get in trouble?” 

“No.” 

Dean sighed this time, reaching up to pry at Sam’s shoulder, get him to turn around. 

“C’mon. Sit up.” 

Sam let out a low, frustrated growl, but acquiesced, first rolling to his side, then shifting to sit up with his legs crossed. Dean ran his eyes over his brother, taking stock - his eyes were red and puffy, and his lower lip had a small split on one side. 

“Alright, out with it. What happened?” 

“Bruce Minor punched me. So I punched him back.” 

“That’s it?” 

Sam shrugged, nodded. 

“Why’d he punch you?” 

“Called me a fag.” Sam ducked his head down. “Then he punched me.” 

“And then what? You punched him back and walked away?” 

“Yeah.”

“Okay, Sam, maybe I’m a little dense here, but I don’t see the problem?” 

“Of course not.” Sam rolled his eyes then turned to lay back down, but Dean caught his elbow and kept him from moving any further. 

“Sam, what’s going on? What aren’t you telling me?” Dean ducked his head to level his eyes with Sam’s, watched as his little brother’s eyes filled with tears. 

“It’s true.” Sam’s breath hitched as he inhaled. 

“What’s true?”

Sam’s eyes closed slowly as he tucked his bottom lip under his teeth and bit down. 

“I’m….” A quiet sob rolled up from Sam’s throat and he squeezed his eyes shut tighter. “I am a fag, Dean.” 

Dean sighed, sliding his hand up to grip the back of Sam’s neck. 

“Sam, look at me.” Dean waited while Sam pried his eyes open, one tear slipping down his cheek. “First of all, you are not a  _ fag _ . And second, if you’re gay, there’s not a fucking thing wrong with that. You hear me? There’s a lot of people who’ll say there is, who will call you names and start shit with you because of it, but they are flat out wrong.” 

Dean gripped his little brother’s neck a little firmer, tugging him into his arms. A wrecked sob escaped Sam as Dean wrapped his arms around his shoulders and held on tight. They didn’t move for a long while, Dean’s arms constant and firm around Sam’s body until he calmed, stopped crying and finally pushed away, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. 

“‘M sorry, Dean.” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse from crying. 

“Not a damn thing to be sorry for, Sammy.” Dean ducked his head to catch Sam’s eyes again. “This is what’s been bothering you the past few months?” 

Sam nodded. 

“Okay, well  _ that _ you can apologize for. I told you you could talk to me - about anything.” 

“I didn’t… I didn’t think I could tell you  _ that _ .” 

“Well, you can. Anything means  _ anything _ , Sam. Got it?” 

“Yeah.” Sam sniffled, tried to smile. 

“Now. This kid you punched. Did he go down?” 

Sam huffed out a laugh, a smile finally spreading across his face, dimples peeking out as he nodded. 

“He puked.” 

“Atta boy!” Dean grinned and pulled Sam into another hug, planting a kiss to the top of his head. He breathed out a sigh, finally relieved to know his little brother, his world, was going to be okay. “Now, what should we make for supper?”


End file.
